Survivor Story - Kong: Skull Island (Captain James Conrad Love Story)
by FantasyandHistory
Summary: She's photographer Mason Weaver's partner, Matilda (Tilda) Riley, a journalist, always eager for a good story. Her next writing project comes in the form of an scientific expedition to an uncharted island - Skull Island. Fully Summary Inside! James ConradXOC
1. Sign Us Up!

_Hello and welcome to my newest story! :) this one is in honour of my love for the wonderful Tom Hiddleston! ;) So I recently watched this movie (super late, I know!) and felt inspired so here's my take on a Captain James Conrad love story :) I do not own 'Kong: Skull Island' or any of the characters only my characters and plot points!_

 **Full Summary:**

 **She's photographer Mason Weaver's partner, Matilda (Tilda) Riley, a journalist, always eager for a good story. Her next writing project comes in the form of an scientific expedition to an uncharted island - Skull Island. Every story has its secrets and unexpected moments - however, she wasn't expecting real-life monsters, including a giant gorilla, to be accused of being a spy, or to fall in love. This might just be her best - and deadliest - story yet. James ConradXOC**

 _Thanks and I hope you enjoy!_

1\. Sign Us Up!

 _Click, click, click..._ Her ink-stained fingers raced across the typewriter's clunky keyboard, clashing with the music coming from the record player across the room, or adding to it depending on which way you looked at it.

 _Click, click, click... DING!_

Her hand automatically shot out, as she had trained it to do, when the writing machine alerted her that she had reached the end of the line.

The end of the line... Tilda pondered this.

 _RIIIIING!_ The shrill and sudden ring of the telephone sitting at the corner of her desk startled her, snapping her from her writing trance and causing her to jump in her seat. This had happened many times before, and she resolved to move the phone across the room so it wouldn't cause her to nearly jump out of her skin every time.

She wiped her inky hands on her pants and reached over to answer the phone, adjusting her glasses on her nose. "Hello?"

 _"We got it!"_ For the second time in only a matter of seconds, she was so startled she jumped when her partner's familiar and obviously excited voice shouted in her ear from the other end of the line.

She quickly recovered, holding the receiver away from her ear. "Good Lord, Mace."

 _"Sorry, can you tell I'm excited?"_ She could see Mason's sideways grin just from hearing her tone of voice.

"The _Time_ gig?"

" _No - well yes, we got that too, but that's not why I'm calling. How's the story coming?"_

She sighed. "It's coming, how well I'm not sure - yet."

 _"Well the photos are ready when you are."_

"Brilliant, thanks. So to what do I owe this excited call?"

 _"We got the job with Landsat! Jerry phoned and told me we got it."_

"An expedition to an uncharted island. Doesn't it sound a little suspicious to you?"

" _Exactly! That's why we have to go! Come on, English. Time will always be there, but an expedition like this may not. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."_

Tilda sighed again, agreeing with her partner and seeing her point. "So when and where are we to make this rendezvous?"

 _"Yes! I knew you couldn't say no to this one, English! The ship is the_ Athena _docked in Bangkok, 6 p.m."_

"Brilliant. See you there and then."

 _"Perfect! Don't forget your notebook and pen."_

"And don't you forget your camera."

Mason chuckled. " _I've got a good feeling about this one, English. I mean, when three sources tell you the exact same thing word-for-word you know they're lying. Something's going on here, something no one is talking about. Something's being covered up and when the secret gets out, we'll be there."_

 **I hope you enjoyed so far, thank you so much for reading! :)**


	2. Partners In Crime

2\. Partners in Crime

"English!" Tilda turned to see Mason standing across the port. The yellow-haired woman jogged over and slung an arm around Tilda's shoulders. "Your hair makes you easy to spot, even in the dark."

"Well thank goodness for that, it's as crowded as those peace rallies we went to out here."

This was true - the Bangkok port was busy and bustling. It had been so busy the taxi had had to let her out way at the other end. She had woven through the crowded market for a while until there was finally an opening in the mass of people and she could just make out the docks. And sure enough there was the _Athena_ awaiting her. And Mason.

"So, how was the trip over?" Mason questioned. "Look at that, the partners in crime reunited all the way across the world. Ready for adventure?"

"Uh huh." Tilda chuckled. "It was good, I spent the flight working on the current story, and making some initial notes for this job. How about you?"

"Picked up some new film for the good old camera, so I'm all good to go." Mason patted her bag and grinned.

They approached the _Athena_ where a man with a clipboard was taking names.

"Mason Weaver, photographer," Mason introduced herself to him.

He looked up, appearing a little taken aback. "Mason Weaver i-is - a _woman_?"

 _Here we go,_ thought Tilda.

Mason grew defensive. "Last time I checked."

"And so is Matt Riley." Tilda stepped forward, pointing to her name on the page. "'Matt' is short for 'Matilda.'"

He just stared blinking back. "Is 'Mason' short for anything?"

"Nope." With that the blonde brushed past him, the red-head right at her heels.

"Can I help you?" the man who appeared to be an officer standing before the gangway asked. They handed him their papers. "Well damn," he stated, nodding, impressed as he studied the papers. "I respect that. But, it was people like you who lost us support back home."

The partners exchanged a knowing glance. _Here we go..._

"You're not actually going to blame the people without guns for losing the war, are you?" challenged Mason.

"We didn't lose the war, we abandoned it. And a camera and pen are much more dangerous than guns."

"Right." With that, Mason brushed past him too, Tilda right behind her. "This just keeps getting more and more interesting," the photographer mumbled.

"Indeed," Tilda agreed.

Aboard the ship was bustling with personnel readying supplies. The main deck was swarming with soldiers who were quick to notice the two young women.

"Hello there, ladies." A tall, sturdily-built man in his thirties approached them, flashing them a charming, white-toothed smile. He had thick, wavy dark hair and deep olive skin and wore a black turtleneck with a leather jacket over top. "Can I help you?"

"Just heading to our cabin to drop our things, thanks," Mason said, brushing him off.

"Ah, well welcome aboard. Can I be of any help?"

"We're good."

"Thank you though, for offering," added Tilda.

"My pleasure. So, what part do you two ladies play in this whole expedition, might I ask?"

"I'm a photographer, Mason Weaver. And this is my partner, Matilda Riley."

"Journalist. You can call me 'Tilda'."

"Mason and Matilda. A pleasure to meet you both. Philip Lance." He smiled and shook their hands.

"And what about you, Mr. Lance, what role do you play here?" questioned Mason.

"Philip, please. I'm one of two trackers they hired for this journey."

"Who's the other?"

"Don't know, haven't met him yet. But I imagine we will very soon."

"What do they need trackers for?" Mason asked, her tone a little judgmental. Tilda nudged her.

"To be perfectly honest with you I don't know yet myself. I imagine - and hope - that they will disclose such information to us tonight at the debriefing session. 7 o'clock, below decks."

"Thanks, we'll see you there." With one last smile from Philip, the ladies headed down to where the cabins were.

"That one might be trouble," Mason observed.

"He seems nice. He was trying to be helpful."

"Too nice. He was flirting."

Tilda rolled her eyes. "He was cute. Make sure you don't take _too_ many pictures of him while we're out there exploring the wilderness-" She giggled when Mason nudged her. "I wonder what they're tracking on a scientific expedition?"

"Guess we'll find out. Now come on, I'm hungry. Let's go check out that market outside."

 _Hello! Hope you enjoyed this chapter (we'll be meeting James soon, I promise! ;)) And yes, I have added in another character, Philip - I have some exciting plans for later on!_

 _Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! :)_


	3. James

3\. James

Tilda and Mason wandered through the colourful market, searching for snacks and possibly even some souvenirs to accompany them on their journey into the unknown.

"Well, looks like we weren't the only ones with this idea," remarked Mason as the two surveyed a fruit stand. Tilda turned to see the handsome figure of tracker Philip Lance approaching.

"Ms. Weaver, Ms. Riley," he addressed them politely. "Savouring your last hours on civilized land before it's off to sea and, for all we know, an uninhabited island?"

"Preparing for adventure, just stocking up." Mason picked up an apple and tossed it back and forth in her hands.

"Good plan. God knows how this expedition will go."

"You don't sound very convinced or hopeful."

As Mason and Philip continued to chat, Tilda took her items over to the person running the booth so she could pay. Turned out the little money she had stashed in her pocket wasn't quite enough.

"Here, just a moment, just let me get some more money-" She shrugged her bag off her shoulder and began rummaging through it, searching for her other stash of money.

Next thing she knew something ran into her, with such force that it caused her to stumble backward, narrowly catching herself from falling, and the weight in her hands was gone - she just managed to catch the back of a teenage boy sprinting through the marketplace, her bag in hand.

She had just been robbed. There was a moment of stunned silence as what just happened settled in.

"HEY!" she yelled, before shooting off after him without another thought.

She was pretty sure she heard Mason call her name, but she didn't stop. All she was focused on was the back of the boy's head as he cut sharply through the array of stalls and groups of shoppers. A couple of times he threw a look over his shoulder, only to see the furious red-head charging after him. This only pushed him to run faster.

A busy marketplace like this was not ideal for such a chase - or maybe it was, depending on which side of the chase you were on. There were countless obstacles to dodge, hard to keep track of when running and with the adrenaline pumping. They were obviously making a huge scene.

They had already made it to the middle of the market, which was clogged with people and forced them to slow their running to a jog, the biggest challenge now to cut through the crowd. Tilda had lost track of how many people she had bumped into already, and gave up yelling 'sorry!'. A few times now she had lost track of her robber for a split second, but then luckily she would catch his head bobbing through the crowd once again. She pushed herself harder.

He threw another look over his shoulder and sure enough, there she was behind him, and gaining. By the looks of it he wasn't at all concerned now with plowing people over to try and lose her, shoving them aside and out of the way.

The crowds were thickening again, however, forcing the thief to slow down. This worked to her advantage. Thinking fast, she leapt up onto the nearest counter and began running across it, jumping from booth to booth. This helped her keep a better eye on him from this more elevated position, instead of losing him amongst the crowds. She had many product-sellers and booth-runners yell at her angrily in their native language.

Her thief hadn't looked back and so she had the element of surprise on her side. She dove off the next counter and lunged at him, throwing him down. He gave a surprised cry as both crashed to the ground.

The bag had fallen from his grasp during the fall but he quickly leapt to his feet and snatched it up. She hauled herself up, cursing under her breath, ready to resume the chase, only to find that he had stopped.

She almost ran right into him. His path had been blocked. A towering figure stood before them, arms crossed over his muscular chest, his bright blue eyes narrowed. His blond hair was swept neatly to the side. A crowd had gathered around to watch.

"Where are you heading in such a hurry?" The man stepped forward. "Give the lady back her bag," the newcomer ordered in a smooth accent, English like hers.

The boy obviously didn't like this and lunged forward, aiming to punch the man, who smoothly evaded the thrown punch and grabbed the boy's arm in an almost iron grip. With the other hand he yanked the bag from the thief's grasp.

Some policemen pushed through the crowd, and the man handed the boy over. Slowly, the crowd dispersed.

Once the police had hauled the boy away, the man turned back to Tilda, who was sure she was looking quite frazzled at the moment. He held out the bag. "I believe this is yours."

"Thank you." She quickly snatched it from him and rummaged around to check to make sure everything was still inside it. Yes, all was well.

"You look too much like a tourist," the man said. "Perfect prey for local pick-pockets." He flashed her a handsome smirk.

She eyed him. "Thank you. For the compliment and for helping me apprehend the thief and returning my bag."

He chuckled. "Where are you headed?"

"The _Athena._ Although I'm afraid I'm rather turned around now _._ "

He appeared genuinely surprised. "Well, what a coincidence, so am I."

She raised her eyebrows. "Good one, Mate, but I've heard that line before."

"No, I'm serious. The Landsat expedition? I've been hired on as a tracker."

Ah, so this was the other tracker who Philip had mentioned. "Ah, so you're the second tracker. I met the other today."

"Ah, but I think you'll find that I am the first, and he is the second."

She chuckled. "Okay, Mr..."

"Conrad, James." He offered his hand for her to shake.

"Matilda Riley, or Tilda. Nice to meet you, James." She shook his hand in greeting.

"You as well, Riley." The way he referred to her this way made her guess that he had some military background. That and his stance and the way he carried himself.

Tilda then glanced at her watch. "We'd best be heading back, I suppose. The ship's scheduled to embark in half an hour, and we have that debriefing session."

"Indeed." James gave a gentlemanly sweep of his arm towards her and began walking, Tilda's legs working overtime to keep up with his long, smooth strides. It didn't help that they were still recovering from the chase, either.

"Tilda!" Mason broke through the crowd, Philip right at her heels. Oh yes - in the heat of the chase, Tilda had forgotten about the presence of her partner. One could also blame her forgetfulness on the presence of the very handsome and dashing stranger she had just met as James.

"Are you okay? Did you get your bag back?" Mason and Philip joined them.

"Yes, I'm fine, still catching my breath though. And yes, all is well." She patted her bag, back safely over her shoulder. She even held onto the strap just to be safe.

Seeing that her friend was indeed alright, Mason scoffed and shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. "Well damn, English. I wasn't expecting that." She gave her a playful punch to the arm. "You put up one hell of a fight back there."

"All of my notes are in here." Tilda patted her bag once again. "And my lucky pen. My whole career is in here, my whole life even!"

"You really snapped into action back there," Philip added, giving her a nod of approval. "I'm impressed."

"Thank you. Although I can't take all the credit. Mr. Conrad here stepped in and helped catch the thief. He's the other tracker for the expedition."

"Is he now? Well then, looks like we'll be working together. Philip Lance, your fellow tracker. We meet at last." The two men shook hands.

"Mason Weaver, photographer and Tilda's partner." Mason also shook hands with James.

"A pleasure to meet you both."

"So, Conrad, I take it that you don't know much more than we do about this mysterious expedition we joined," Philip said.

James shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets. "A scientific expedition to an uncharted island in the Pacific, where there is something we might need to track... That's it, I'm afraid."

"Good, glad we're all on the same page."

"We'd best get back to the ship then, to that promised and obviously much-needed information session. Plus we don't want them to leave without us," James remarked.

"They'd be lost if they did," stated Mason. "They sure know how to pick their trackers," she added to Tilda in a whisper as the four began the walk back. Tilda stifled a laugh. Mason had a point though.

When the ladies arrived back at their cabin aboard the ship, Tilda dropped her trouble-causing bag onto her bed. Then she stopped and sighed with realization. "Oh bother. After all that I forgot to go back and buy my fruit."

Mason couldn't help but laugh and tossed her friend one of her own apples.

 _But she did meet a handsome and rather dashing former captain ;) Yay, we've met James/Tom! ;) And had some action! (Yes, this scene was inspired by the bag-robbery/chase scene from the new 'Tomb Raider' movie, so thank you for the inspiration Lara! ;)) Thank you so much for the reviews on this story, and the follows and favourites! :) so glad to see so many of you are enjoying this so far! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! :)_


	4. Cover Story

4\. Cover Story

"Hello and welcome. I'm Landsat Field Supervisor, Victor Nieves," the man introduced to the group gathered for the debriefing session, standing before a projector. _Top Secret_ was written across the slide.

"This'll be good," Tilda muttered to Mason who smiled in agreement.

"Secrets, secrets, secrets," agreed the blonde.

"This is my colleague, Steve Woodward, our data collector," Nieves continued, introducing the man who had been checking them in and was surprised by the two women.

"Mason Weaver is a woman?" Mason whispered in mocking, making Tilda giggle.

"Shh," she whispered, but the two continued to chuckle.

"Our expedition takes us to a place every nautical trade route known to man has avoided for centuries: a long-lost island." Nieves changed the slides to ones displaying satellite photographs. "As our satellites show, the island is surrounded by a perpetual storm system, allowing it to remain hidden from the outside world..."

"Mysterious," mumbled Tilda, hurriedly scratching notes in her notebook.

"But with Colonel Packard's helicopter transport, we will be the first to break through to the other side. Thank you, Colonel." Packard gave a wave. "We're also pleased to be joined, for the first time, by the resource exploration team, led by Mr. Randa, and accompanied by biologist, Miss San, and geologist, Mr. Brooks. Our focus will be on the island's surface, theirs on what lies beneath."

"Searching for buried treasure," mumbled Tilda. "That's it then, the secret's out: we're working for pirates." Mason gave a little snort of laughter.

This seemed to catch the attention of Packard, for the Colonel shot them a glare from across the room, his tense gaze meeting Tilda's. She quickly looked back down at her notebook.

Brooks came forward and began explaining with the help of the slides. "It's simple, really."

"Is it?" mumbled Mason.

"We'll use explosives to shake the earth and create vibrations-"

At this, Tilda looked up. She and Mason now exchanged a serious glance.

"-Helping us to map the subsurface of the island. We'll fly in over the south shore and then strategically drop seismic charges to do this."

"You're dropping bombs?" broke in James, voicing many's thoughts.

"Hmm, more like scientific instruments," corrected Brooks.

"Sounds like bombs to me," muttered Tilda.

"Yeah," scoffed Mason in agreement.

"You hear that, boys? We're scientists!" cried Slivko, one of the young soldiers, earning some laughs from his fellow military men.

"You are _not_ scientists," scoffed Woodward, just loud enough for them to hear.

Tilda raised her hand. "And what is the purpose of these 'scientific instruments'?" she clarified.

"The explosions they create will better help us understand the density of the earth," Brooks explained.

"So you're dropping bombs," she stated.

"We'll then land and make base camp for ground excursions led by Mr. Conrad and Mr. Lance," Nieves said, grabbing back their attention.

Tilda caught James looking down when eyes looked his way following this address, and he appeared a little shy, while Philip stood up straighter and gave the group a wave.

Next it was Major Jack Chapman's turn. "Alright, once on the island, the storm's interference will block all radio contact with the ship. That means we'll be by ourselves. Three days later the refuel team will meet us here-" He gestured to the picture on the slide. "-On the north side of the island. That may be our only safe departure window for an unknown period of time. So, tip for everybody: don't miss it, please."

Nieves once again took the stage. "That's all for now, thank you for your attention and cooperation. Good night."

With that, everyone disbanded.

"I know a cover story when I hear one," said Tilda, snapping her notebook shut.

"Uh, huh," agreed Mason. "You still having second thoughts about this job?"

"Oh yes," her partner answered. "Only for different reasons now."

* * *

RESTRICTED AREA. AUTHORIZED.

After the meeting, the partners in crime were wandering around below decks where all of the equipment for the expedition was being stored. Turned out, they weren't the only ones who had this idea.

"Crikey!" exclaimed Tilda when they rounded a corner to find a tall, towering figure in front of them, also inspecting the secretive crates. James's handsome face was illuminated by the dull orange glow of flame coming from the lighter held in his hand.

"Trying to light all this science shit on fire?" Mason joked.

"What are you doing down here?" he demanded, standing up straight and tall.

"Well, Captain, looks like we caught you red-handed." Mason grinned. "We could ask you the same." She turned to Tilda. "Well English, looks like we're not the only ones suspicious enough to come sneaking around the equipment."

"We thought we were the only ones down here," Tilda told him.

"Well, evidently not." He flicked his lighter shut, enclosing them in shadows.

"It's sure a lot of 'restricted' stuff they've got here," Tilda observed.

"Why does a geological mapping mission need explosives?" Mason pondered aloud.

"You obviously weren't listening in class. I could see you girls giggling away." James crossed his arms.

"Could you? And were you listening? Sound like you were paying attention to us," said Mason with raised eyebrows.

He gave a half-amused grin. "They're seismic charges for the geological survey."

"Sounds fancy," stated Mason. "And you believe that?"

"I didn't say that."

"Have you met Colonel Packard yet? That guy's wound pretty tight."

"The man's a decorated war hero. That's the package they come in. I've met enough of them to know. And you? Isn't shooting a mapping mission a step down for a war photographer and journalist?"

"Anti-war," Mason corrected. "The right photo paired with the right story can help shape opinions."

"And win you a Pulitzer."

"That's not why we're here," stated Tilda.

"Might I ask why, then? Do, pray tell."

"Okay, Captain Conrad, how about you? How did British special forces get dragged into all this?" Mason asked.

"Do, pray tell," added Tilda.

This made him smile. "Just 'Conrad', I'm decommissioned. They offered me money," he admitted.

"Hmm, and there's the truth. You don't strike me as a mercenary." Mason glanced at Tilda who raised her eyebrows. "Anyways, I'm going to go take some shots." She held up her camera dangling from around her neck. "See you two later."

"Bye, Mace." With that, the blonde woman disappeared behind a tall stack of crates.

"Despite your giggling and whispering, you seemed rather attentive tonight," James commented.

"You can never ask too many questions." She grinned. "I just want to know all the facts, what we're getting ourselves into."

He nodded, eyeing the boxed-up equipment surrounding them like a maze. "Me too."

 _Yay, more James! ;) Haha! I hope you enjoyed, thanks so much for reading and the reviews! :)_


	5. Here Comes the Storm

5\. Here Comes the Storm

Tilda awoke early the next morning. Feeling groggy, and her head a little stuffy, she did a couple laps walking around the main deck, allowing the fresh sea air to rouse her, as well as the first rays of sun from a new day.

Her thoughts were still consumed by the nature of this expedition, how there still seemed to be so many secrets and how no one really knew what was going on.

This unquenchable curiosity led her to venture back below decks before breakfast to reexamine the supplies.

She flicked on her torch and shone the narrow beam of light across the stacks of crates. All said the same: _RESTRICTED_. Not that she had expected it to change overnight. But with something like this, you never know.

Being here amongst the dark towers of crates holding mysterious, unknown cargo made her feel small, and she found herself wishing - almost - that she might come across James again.

She jumped and gasped when her light shone across something other than a crate and quickly became aware that she was not alone.

Philip was standing by a smaller crate. He appeared slightly startled as well. She flicked off the light.

"Oh, Matilda, it's you."

"Yes-" She caught him slip what looked to be a pocket knife into his back pocket before leaning casually against the tower of crates. By the looks of it, he had been attempting to pry open the lid of one of them, before she came along. Kind of odd behavior. Even more odd than her own.

"And what are you up to this morning?"

"Exploring," she said. "And yourself?"

"The same."

"I see."

"May I ask what you two are doing down here?" another voice, not belonging to either of them, said suddenly. The two turned to see the serious Colonel Packard had appeared. He had been so quiet neither had heard him approach and both jumped slightly.

"ColonelPackard, Sir," said Philip, straightening up. Tilda was sure he was still holding the knife.

The Colonel scrutinized them. "You are aware that this is an authorized area."

"Yes, Sir."

"And that you are not authorized to be here."

"Yes, Sir."

"Do I want to know what's going on here?"

"We were just looking," spoke up Tilda. "Sir," she quickly added for good measure.

He continued to eye them, even as he turned away. "Well, get on with it then - preferably elsewhere. And I don't want to find you here again."

"Yes, Sir."

As soon as he was gone, the two guilty parties shared a glance and exhaled a breath.

"You two okay?" Mason asked as they arrived for breakfast, quickly noticing something was up. "You look like you saw a ghost."

"No, but just had a run-in with Colonel Packard," Tilda informed her and James. "Though I think I would have preferred the ghost." James and Mason chuckled.

After breakfast, most everyone was up on the main deck, but not Tilda. She was on the ledge above.

Even from up here she could hear Mason's hearty laugh as she took pictures of the soldiers as they goofed around.

"What are you doing up here all alone when clearly, everyone is having fun down there?"

She turned to see James. "Well, I could ask the same of you."

"Fair enough." He joined her leaning against the railing. "Nice view from up here."

"That's what I thought. The perfect perch for the observant writer to see everything."

"So why are you here?"

She looked down. "Have you ever heard of the introverted writer?"

"To be honest, I don't think I would have guessed it from what I've seen of you so far. Especially not after seeing you take out that boy who robbed you. You're out of your element then, throwing yourself in amongst this group."

"Now who's the observant one." She chuckled. "Tell me about it. It was Mason's idea, she wanted to do this job. And we work together so I was kind of in it anyway. But I will admit I am very curious about what's going on."

"Me too."

"What are you two doing hiding all the way up here?" They were interrupted then by Philip. "Sorry to interrupt, but Colonel Packard has announced that we'll be going airborne for the remainder of the journey. So, in other words, suit up. I hope you're okay with heights."

A fleet of helicopters lined the deck, ready to carry them into the storm brewing ahead, and - hopefully - to the island that was supposedly on the other side.

"Oh good, they got the record player," Mason noted as they passed a group of soldiers packing up supplies.

They walked over to a helicopter which was already half-occupied by the two trackers.

Mason waved her hand in a scooting motion. "Shove on over, boys. The ladies are here."

"Yes, they are." Philip and James exchanged a glance before both moved to the next seats over to make room for the photographer and journalist. The ladies sat across from each other, Mason beside James and Tilda beside Philip.

Colonel Packard began giving an address over the radio as they took to the air and pressed on into the now roaring storm, comparing their situation to that of Icarus, and how they were better suited being in helicopters with 'good American steel'.

"Nothing like a little Greek mythology to ease the tension," Tilda called over the roaring of the propellers. "Good old Icarus - oh!" She gave rather loud cry when the chopper gave a great lurch.

" _Here comes the storm, do, do, do, do.._." sang Mason.

The storm rattled the helicopters as well as the passengers.

"If we die, may I remind you that this job was _your_ idea!" Tilda called to Mason, who only flashed her a grin.

"Might be the highlight of your career, English!"

But suddenly, all was still and quiet - the storm had passed. Or, rather, they had passed through the storm

"Well I'll be damned," remarked Philip as they emerged into a peaceful area, hovering over a serene island.

"So our mysterious island does exist," said Tilda.

 _Click_ , went Mason's camera. _Click. Click._

That serenity and awe was short-lived, however. And everyone had barely recovered from the storm. Tilda was just cleaning off her glasses - she wasn't completely blind without them, but everything was very fuzzy. So at first she thought the huge, dark mass taking shape in her vision was just her fuzzy eyesight. That was, until she put her glasses back on, and it all came into sharp, startling focus.

She cried out, the first in their helicopter to take notice of the giant ape approaching the chopper fleet.

But they had noticed too late.

Philip had a more verbal reaction. "Holy shit-"

 _Hello, I know it's been forever and I'm very sorry! But I'm back and so is Tilda! :)_

 _Thank you so much for reading and for sticking with me and I hope you enjoyed! :)_


	6. All Hail the King

5\. All Hail the King

It was strange how quickly the scene changed: One moment, they were soaring through the sky above a serene island.

The next, they were at the centre of pure chaos in the form of a sudden-onset attack that no one saw coming or could have seen coming.

No one could have anticipated this, no one could have been prepared.

"Is that a monkey?" one soldier cried over the radio.

No one answered; everyone was shocked speechless. Even Mason was too shocked to take a photo of the thing - whatever it was.

It looked like a gorilla, only the size of a skyscraper, and instead of crawling like gorillas usually did, this guy stood tall. Proud almost, one could even say.

The creature didn't move at first, just stared at the pack of choppers moving closer. It looked, well, angry.

With a swing of its giant fist, the gorilla punched one of the helicopters right out of the sky. It exploded into nothing, just fire and smoke.

The one beside it was the next victim. This one he backhanded. This knocked it off its course and it spun out of control, striking a palm tree, doing irreversible damage, damage to both itself and the tree, and not to mention the passengers.

Soldiers spoke frantically to one another over the radio, but it was difficult to hear and understand. Plus, everyone was too focused on the giant ape blocking their path!

Some of the men opened fire and began raining bullets down on the creature, who seemed mostly un-phased by this counter-attack. Un-phased in the sense that it was unhurt, but instead of angry now, it was utterly pissed.

"Pull out, now, pull out!" James yelled to the pilot who replied,

"I don't take orders from you!"

"Just do it, Mate!" screamed Tilda. "Up, up, up!"

" _Let's kill this son of a bitch_ ," said Packard over the radio.

"No!" cried Tilda, even though he couldn't hear her. "Can't anyone see that's just aggravating it!"

" _Mayday! Mayday! Mayday_!" Another chopper went crashing down, followed by another, and then another.

Tilda moved and leaned into the pilot's seating area. "Get us out of here!"

"What are you doing?!" yelled the pilot.

"You're going to get us killed!"

"You don't know what you're doing, lady! I'm gonna have to report you if you don't move."

"You won't be able to if we're dead! And that'll be on you!"

She wasn't exactly sure what happened next, but somewhere amidst the chaos, both of their pilots ended up dead. Now they had no one flying the chopper.

Tilda leaned in and grabbed hold of the controls, trying to gain some control over the helicopter, but there was nothing she could do - except prepare to crash. They were going down along with the rest of them.

"Brace yourselves!" she yelled. "Brace, brace!" She managed to tip the chopper so that it fell into some trees, breaking the impact some, instead of nosediving straight to the ground. Everyone from their chopper and the one next to it were alive and mostly unhurt, except for the pilots and copilots.

"I think you saved our lives," Philip told Tilda as they climbed out of the utterly destroyed helicopters.

"Well, don't thank me yet," she said.

"You fly?" James asked.

"Long time ago."

"Wow English, you're just full of surprises," remarked Mason.

Sounded like this trip so far.

The group looked up at the scene they had left behind. With a great roar that seemed to shake the whole island, the giant ape tore the last of the helicopters in half, ripping it to shreds.

One thing was for certain, made blatantly clear: they were not welcome here.

* * *

Everyone was split up, scattered across the island. Their group consisted of Tilda, Mason, James, Philip, Slivko, San, Brooks, and Nieves.

Nieves was complaining, but no one could really blame him. No one was really paying attention either, all still shell-shocked. "All of our choppers are down!"

James was trying to keep a cool head. "We'll find a way to signal the ship. They'll send a search party. We'll just have to make it by the exit window."

"I-I should be sitting behind a desk," Nieves sighed. Tilda was inclined to agree. As a writer, she didn't usually get so involved in her projects - certainly not this involved.

"Wait, so are we not going to talk about what just happened?!" cried Slivko in a near yell.

"Nope," said Tilda. Everyone was still processing - or at least trying to process - what had happened, much less in a state to discuss it.

"Well," Philip said, looking to James. "Looks like we're in charge, Captain."

James just nodded. "Everyone grab some weapons and supplies. We all need to pitch in carrying it all."

Everyone except for Nieves stepped in to help. "This supplies might just save your life, Nieves," James told him.

"Captain's orders," said Mason.

"I'll take one." Tilda grabbed a machine gun and slung it over her shoulder. Mason didn't take a weapon. "Guess I'm covering for both of us, then."

"My camera is my greatest weapon. Hope you've got a good shot," said Mason. "You know how to use one?"

 _It's been a while, just like with the flying, but there's always muscle memory._ "Good enough: Point. Shoot. Done."

"I appreciate your attitude," Philip told her.

"Thanks."

"There's more to you than meets the eye," James remarked.

"Beware of writers, Captain Conrad. We may be quiet, but inside, we're complex creatures."

"I don't doubt it."

 _Sorry for the delay in updates - I'm trying - and succeeding! - to finish up some of my older stories. I've got big plans coming for Tilda though!_

 _Thanks so much for reading with me and I hope you enjoyed! :)_


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